Date: Thu, 10 Apr 2003 19:29:12 -0700 (PDT)
From: fennerp123@yahoo.com
Subject: ST: FUN NIGHT AT JACKS 1-3
FUN NIGHT AT JACKS
PART ONE
"Jacks" was a Glasgow club for mainly middle-aged gay guys to meet
up, socialise and generally enjoy themselves. Usually between ten
and twenty guys would turn up, mostly in their forties and fifties,
but some well into retirement. They used to arrange strip shows
occasionally, when of course there would be maximum turnout, up to
forty guys all there to leer and drool over some hot guy taking it
all off for them. It rarely went much further than that, but they
all revelled in seeing some cute 19 year old stripped down and naked
for them. They had a stage, podium, curtains and lighting especially
rigged up for these once fortnightly extravaganzas, and generally
there would be four or five performers a night.
It all went horribly wrong one evening last year when a group of
young lads raided the club, there were five or six of them, and they
burst in halfway through the show, wearing masks and balaclavas and
hurling homophobic abuse and hatred at the club members, who were
completely terrified. A couple brandished knives, another started
kicking and punching, and still more started smashing up the place.
It was a horrible end to the evening. One of the club members later
found out that the intruders were connected to a stripper who held a
grudge against the group because he had been sacked for a couple of
non-appearances. All those involved were later traced, charged, and
brought to court. That is when the fun started. The guys were all
given suspended sentences, but, the judge in the case having been
one of the club members, allowed this only on condition that they
agreed to provide "entertainment" for the club in a manner of the
club's choosing. The brats had no choice in the matter, and in the
courtroom a number of the club members were chuckling and murmuring
about the prospects of a great show, since all the guys were aged 18
to 22 and rough, good-looking, cocky types sure to have plenty to
show off. The lads were all ordered to report to Jacks at 9pm on a
Saturday night a few weeks away.
The members were determined to ensure that they had the best
possible night, the sweetest revenge and humiliated and embarrassed
the lads soundly to get their own back. They spent a lot of time
thinking about how the evening would go, and went out to select
jockstraps, speedoes, a gold posing pouch, wrestling singlets,
soccer gear, anything they thought the guys would give a good show
in.
Finally the night came, and all six of the guys turned up, well on
time, to report to the court judge who, of course, none of them knew
was a club member too. A number of club members had devised a series
of games, humiliations and performances for the guys to go through,
and the club was packed with about forty of them when the show
started at 11pm. The audience were calling, wolf-whistling and
hollering for the games to begin. A number of them were quite
wealthy, and had put a lot of money towards buying equipment and
gear to ensure a really good night. Disco lights and strobes
swirled, loud music boomed, and smoke effects covered the stage,
which was about 6 yards square, raised 8 feet off the ground with a
small 5 foot across circular podium at the front. At either side of
the stage were four foot deep tanks, one filled with water, one with
some other kind of liquid. At just gone 11pm, the compere emerged,
resplendent in bow tie and tails, and recounted the events that had
led up to this magical evening. He explained that, given the
circumstances, the police were going to turn a blind eye to whatever
the guys were mad to do, and, in any case, not only were a couple of
them in the audience, but the place was securely locked and bolted
for the duration. But the audience shouted and screamed for the show
to start.
"So, without further ado," the compere announced, let me introduce
our first performer, the adorable Ricky, from Carolina USA, who is
19, and a US marine." Ricky was an athletic, cocky dude with plenty
of attitude, a small metal earring in his right ear, cropped dark
hair with a barbed-wire tattoo around his right biceps, a thick,
chunky silver chain around his neck and right wrist, and a gorgeous
pouting face. At 5 foot 7 inches tall he was positively bite sized.
None of the audience knew what kind of show he was going to give,
but suddenly the music changed to the quiet, soft, girly "Dance of
the Sugar Plum Fairy", the curtains parted, and revealed the
gorgeous Ricky totally humiliated and dressed as a five year-old
girl in a pink party frock, frilly satin knickers and red party
shoes with ankle socks. The whole thing topped off with a pink
ribbon in his crewcut hair. The audience roared with laughter.
Around his neck he wore a cardboard sign saying "I'm a little
sissy", and was forced to pirouette, as instructed, to the music.
"Say hello to the boys and girls and do your dance", went the
compere, and Ricky, looking very embarrassed indeed, performed the
curtsey he had been told to do at each side of the stage, revealing
both front and back, which didn't require much effort, as the party
dress only came down to his waist anyway. When he turned round the
audience saw that the panties had slid so far up his bubblebutt that
both his globes and his swimtrunk tanline smiled out enticingly. The
audience cheered. Some of them, armed with bottles full of oil,
squirted it towards him and, as well as making the stage mighty
sticky, looked like he had had wet accidents everywhere and started
to make his muscled legs gleam.
"Before he dances for us," the compere beamed, "little er Jessie
here is going to do a little spelling test, aren't you darling, to
see whether you dance with knickers on or knickers off."
Ricky nodded shyly, looking like he wished the wet stage would
swallow him up.
"What do you think, boys and girls?". "Off or on?" he teased the
audience. "Off", they all squealed.
"No, first we have the test. Can you think of a word easy enough for
little Jessie to spell, so he can be saved this punishment?". One of
the guys suggested he try to spell the word "Supercalifragilistic".
Ricky looked horrified. In any case, however he chose to spell it,
he was bound to be judged wrong."
"Go on Jessie," coaxed the compere, as more oil soaked Ricky from
the audience.
"S-U-P-E-R..." went the dumb jock, and er "K-A-L-L-...". The audience
roared with laughter as Ricky looked amazed that he could have been
found wrong.
"Oh dear, sweetheart," cooed the compere, "looks like those panties
are history". So lets see you do your dance without them".
Ricky turned around shyly and shucked his panties off. At least I'm
rid of them, he thought. The music started up, as Ricky's buns were
flexed towards the crowd, his dress billowing right up above his
waist in the breeze. The music was, in order to fully embarrass the
marine, Village People's "In The Navy". Ricky swung round and
started to dance clumsily on the oiled up stage. His cock swung into
full view, and began to harden as it slapped his thighs backwards
and forwards. The guys in the audience started to yell
enthusiastically at the sight of the guy's cock hardening, along
with some insults about little girls not behaving as they should.
Poor Ricky was in their total control and just wished it would all
end, but of course it wouldn't. At the end of the song, with now a
three-quarter boner, Ricky was made to do jumping jacks, 50 of them,
with his dress on of course, which was a very demeaning sight. By
the time he'd finished, the friction had given him a total hard-on,
his knobhead visibly dripping precum and shining in the light.
"OK," the compere commanded, "you're no little girl, you're a horny,
punky marine, we can see from the size of your dick!", He joined in
the audience's laughter. "We can see you need to release some of
that spooge inside your big boy's tool, so let's all see
it!". "Yeah", "Wooooh!", "Let's see that fucker cream," yelled the
audience.
Ricky was led briefly backstage to get out of the demeaning frock,
and unknown to him, the next stage of his punishment was being
wheeled out. Another club member, a glazier, had rigged up a six
foot square plate glass window on a long wooden block and four
wheels. This was carried and deposited centre stage, as some of the
club members sprayed oil over the glass facing backstage.
Ricky was brought back out, handcuffed behind his back, and wearing
the sexiest black army boots and white socks imaginable. Apart from
his chains, tattoo and earring, he was otherwise completely nude,
still with the hard, keen, dripping cock. His snub nose and pouting
lips now leered full of attitude at the thronging queens below. He
had no idea what he had to do. His hairless, muscled body gleamed in
the light. His crystal blue eyes stared out front stage.
"OK Jessie -- I mean Ricky," joked the compere, you have just 10
minutes to get yourself off for the audience",
"You mean I gotta cum? Here?"
"That's right, Shoot your wad. Right here."
"But I ain't got no hands."
It still hadn't occurred to the dumb boy what he had to do.
"You will gyrate and throb your hips against the oiled window until
you get yourself off. But if you don't manage it in ten minutes, you
go on to the next humiliation."
The audience, somewhat smarter than the stupid marine, had guessed
this was going to happen, and laughed uproariously as they saw the
realisation on the jock's cute little face."
"Jeez, I have to jerk myself off by friction with an oily window,
just for these assholes?"
"That's right, isn't it, assholes," the compere explained to the
audience. "On your marks, Ricky, get set, go."
Blasting rock music started up as a digital clock was lowered and
visibly clicked away the seconds. Ricky got going, suddenly
remembering he was against the clock, and desperate to get his load
shot before time ran out. He jiggled his dick backwards and
forwards, grunting and looking more and more desperate as he humped
the slippery glass. Soon his cock, shaved balls and torso were
completely slicked up. He had a full, throbbing hardon, but there
wasn't quite enough friction to get the poor fucker off. More and
more frantically he made love to that screen, quite forgetting his
embarrassing predicament and no longer hearing the hysterical
laughter and catcalls from the crowd, who were simply loving seeing
this rough young cutie brought down a peg or two. With two minutes
to go, it looked as if he was never going to make it, still jabbing
his cock at the screen, precum drooling down. A photo of a naked
girl was held up at the side of the stage by one of the assistants
who had taken pity on the guy, in an effort to get him off. The
audience loved this confirmation that the sexy dude was straight,
and therefore doubly humiliated. The photo seemed to do the trick,
as Ricky quickly approached orgasm with one minute to go. Suddenly,
he yelled, threw back his head and hollered "Oh fffuuuck", as jet
after jet of hot cream whapped out of his dick, jetted right across
the oiled screen and splattered everywhere. The third jet squirted
up, back, right in his face, and speckled his crewcut, which still
bore the ribbon. They had cruelly left it in to remind him that this
was his humiliation. The audience screamed. Several had taken their
dicks out for a pounding. They applauded loudly. It was nearly
midnight and still another five guys to get their punishment. It was
going to be one helluva night. As Ricky looked sheepish, still in
handcuffs.
"My, my, this little girl has made one nasty mess of our window.
Look at all that juice everywhere. Did little missy spill her milk
bottle?"
No reply.
"What did little missy do, tell uncle Charlie," teased the
compere. "Why are there nasty stains all over the nice clean window?"
The crowd fell silent, wondering if the dumb guy would answer these
ridiculous questions.
"Well, man, I was told I had to empty my nuts. I ain't come for two
days. My girlfriend ain't in town and ... ".
The guys loved that he'd answered the questions seriously, and
ribbed him for it.
"Well then, if our hands are tied, we'd better lick it up, hadn't we
my dear!"
"But it's my balljuice, sir. Ain't never eaten my own balljuice."
"Oh I'm sure it's full of protein", and very good for you. Some
joker in the audience volunteered to step in and lick it up, cos he
was thirsty.
"Let's get you started, " sniggered the compere, as he scooped up a
handful of spunk and slapped it on the marine's shaven head. "There
you go, soldier boy." It started to trickle into his eyes and that
got another good belly laugh from the audience. Embarrassed once
again, the lad licked away at the window, grimacing as he tasted his
own cum, swallowing hard.
"Enough!" shouted the compere, "he's earned his rest for the moment.
Take a bow Ricky, you gave a great show." Ricky smiled stupidly and
bowed, like he'd just won an Oscar. Which, in a way, he had. "It's
time for the next showman to come right out here on stage -- we'll
maybe see some more of Ricky later, when he's recharged his guns.
Which shouldn't be long at his age...". With one more chuckle from the
audience, there was a brief pause until the next "act" of the
night...
PART 2
The music from the side of the stage started to play a disco version
of "Send In The Clowns", and the audience, having gone to the bar to
get extra beers, started to whoop and holler in anticipation of the
next "act" to get thoroughly humiliated. They had been primed to
stand by with custard pies, foam sprays and other circus tent
material in readiness for act No.2.
"Ladies, ahem, and er, gentlemen, please put your hands together and
give a big circus tent welcome for our chuckling clown this evening,
who I'm sure is going to give us all a big laugh, it's
Custard "Cutie" Pie, Andy. He's 19 years old and he's from London.
Come in Andy and give us your show. Andy was another cocky, know-it-
all, seen-it-all (or so he thought he had) type from South London;
this time smooth and blond, a baseball cap wearer with a No.2 crop,
lightly muscled 5'9" tall, with an angelic, smartass face, piercing
green eyes, and three or four silver neck chains jangling for
position on his hairless but delicately tattooed chest. A real show
off, he had a delicious amount of fuzz around his balls, but neatly
trimmed above his cock area. He had been one of the most violent
intruders on the fatal night, so deserved an especially demeaning
role play punishment in the eyes of the club. Unknown to most of the
audience, he had been told that he had to come on stage dressed as a
clown, and perform a sex education class for kids -- except it had to
be done in front of forty leering gay men and it had to be done for
real, or little Andy would go on to more and more unpleasant and
humiliating events.
As Andy emerged his embarrassment at his predicament was to die for.
A stool awaited him centre stage as he emerged between the curtains,
again, to swirling smoke effects. He wore a blue and white striped
overall with large red clown's boots, and a big sissy bonnet with
the word "Andy" across the top. His face was made up delightfully
with a red rouged spot on each side of his face -- which, thankfully
to him, covered his real blushes. He looked so cute as he emerged
and the audience hollered. He had been well tutored for his role.
"Hello Andy, you're up late tonight," joked the compere, as the
audience sniggered. "What have you got to show for us this evening?"
"Good afternoon boys and girls," stammered Andy, who had been told
that it was imperative he played this for real for the complete
amusement of the guys, "my name's Andy and I'm going to teach you
all about sex and my little winkie".
The guys thought this was fantastic, and hooted their approval. A
couple almost collapsed with laughter.
"Well, Andy, we have a few of your friends tonight who want to ask
you a few questions and see how you cope, don't we boys and girls?",
said the compere, somewhat mysteriously, as the guys had no idea
what was about to happen.
"We have some girls who are eager to learn what you have to teach
them." And with that, he introduced four real 16 year old girls from
Andy's school, all of whom had picked him out as sexiest guy from
photos the previous Thursday, in what they thought was a school male
beauty pageant. They had been told that their prize would be to see
Andy perform live on stage, and there was no denying to all looking
that this guy was one real hot piece of young shit. They had
expected to see him in a local singing Fame Academy or some such, so
little did they know that this degrading performance was their prize.
"So, let's welcome on stage, Suzie, Karen, Melanie and Hannah." The
four girls emerged from backstage to a huge round of applause and
sat cross legged in front of Andy, who looked completely amazed and
wholly astonished, as he recognised all four girls from class.
"Well, Andy," the compere went on, "we're all dying to learn what
you have to show us, aren't we girls?". "Sure thing. Yeah! Woooo!",
chorused the four girls on the stage and the other forty in front of
it. The four teenage girls were really getting into this quickly and
had obviously been given some idea of what to expect from the guys
backstage."
"Well, boys and girls," choked Andy, as childish clown and circus
music struck up, "I want to tell you and show you here today all
about boys and their winkies".
"I don't think Andy sounds very keen, do you boys and girls?" teased
the compere. "Let's get him to do it again, with more feeling. Go
on, Andykins."
"I'm going to show aaaaalll you lovely boys and girls all abooout my
wee willie winkie," said Andy, forcibly smiling, but playing along
valiantly. He danced around a bit, showing how incredibly tight the
blue and white smock overalls were against his beautiful butt.
"Would you like to see what lickle Andy has under his overalls?"
"Yeeah!"
"All right then, I'll just unzip my outfit," said Andy, by now
humiliated beyond measure as the guys laughed and sniggered at him.
The front was unzipped, showing him nude underneath, and the
shoulder straps of the overalls flopped forwards. His torso was
visible right to his waist, when one of the school girls asked a
question --
"Can we see your willie pleeease mister Andy?" cooed Hannah. "Yeah,
right show us dick," said a member of the crowd to more applause."
"Andy pulled his overalls down to reveal the suggestion of a huge
soft but hardening dick, about 5 inches long, hidden behind what
looked like a plastic diaper."
"Of course, er Hannah," spluttered Andy, as he shucked down the
overalls to reveal the slimfit, adult diaper in its entirety.
"I think Andy needs to take his overalls off, he's very hot, aren't
you Andy?" said the compere. Glaring at him, Andy stripped down
until he was only wearing the diaper, the big, ludicrous clown
boots, orange socks and the hood. What a sight.
It was a delicious sight, in fact. "I have to wear these in case I
have a little accident", said Andy, "but it's quite safe, I can take
them off now, I promise I will be a good boy." He stuck to the
script like he'd been told, and then, "oh, but sometimes I can't
contain myself". Again, according to script, the compere brought on
a baby's potty and Andy stood over it saying, "I need to have a wee
wee, do you mind, children?". "Noooo!" came the reply, with more
laughter, as Andy ripped off his diaper and let a searing gush of
piss flow out into the bucket. The girls arched back as they had
never seen so much piss come out of a boy before. But then again,
he'd been given two pints of lemonade an hour before the show
started.
And then "Oh, and I need to do poo poo," remembered Andy, as he
swung round and crouched over the pot. For this purpose, and for
other purposes later in the evening, a camera held by one of the
front row zoomed in and took a close up of Andy's gorgeous ring,
which was displayed in glorious technicolour on a giant screen above
the stage. As Andy grunted, in line with previous instructions, a
huge turd started to emerge from Andy's tight, hairless hole and
gradually forced itself out into the bowl."
"What a disgusting, dirty little piece of shitface you are, Andy,"
admonished the mocking compere, as he flung the filthy bowl off side
stage in the tank of water to his left. The turds bobbed to the
surface to the amusement of those who could see what was happening
in the front row.
Andy swung round, "right, now, boys and girls, I'm ready to show you
what my pee pee can do," he said, almost forgetting himself for a
moment.
"If I touch my pee pee like this, " he enthused, wagging it before
the girls, "it starts to get bigger and sends lovely tingly
sensations through my nuts, which are the two sacks dangling beneath
my pee pee," he said, suddenly remembering he was supposed to be
giving a sex eductation class, as it were.
"What does it feel like", asked Karen, genuinely interested. Indeed,
all four girls virtually had their tongues hanging out at the sight
of this gorgeous young guy virtually wanking himself off for their
education and entertainment.
"Yeah, what's it feel like, big boy?" chuckled a middle-aged guy of
about 50, craning his neck to get a better view of the whack-
off. "Have some of this," said another, tossing him some lube.
"If I spread this slippery jelly on my pee pee it feels all mellow
and hard, like I want to have babies," said Andy, as simply as he
could. "Look, the head goes a sort of purple color, and if you look
real good now, you can see a little pearl of moisture coming out the
end." The girls bent over for a better look as he showed them. In
fact, he was getting off on the fact that the girls were there,
which wasn't quite what the compere had planned, so he started the
next part of the entertainment.
"Cakes ahoy!" yelled the compere, and the big creamy custard pies
were hurled from the audience at poor Andy, covering him in custard
cream, strawberry and foam cream, knocking him off his stool and
onto the floor, still slippery after Ricky's show just
before. "Woah! Way to go!", hollered the audience again, revelling
in yet more embarrassment for our poor,horny, sexy hero.
Andy knelt up, continuing the demonstration as if nothing had
happened, as he had been instructed. Cherries and cream flopped down
his red face and onto his chest, and his ass flopped in a pile of
creamy goo.
"If I keep waggling my pee pee, eventually I will spray a jet of
baby jelly out of the end, and sometimes there's quite a lot, but I
don't want to make too much of a mess, so I'd better stop now."
The compere glared at him. The audience yelped at the thought they
might not see the young punk squirt, and screamed at him to go on.
"Oh yes, Andy, we want to see your baby um jelly", said Hannah, keen
to see what was going to happen next, as she'd never seen a young
boy like Andy squirt jizz out of his dick.
"OK,, but you might get a little bit wet, " boasted Andy. "Ooooooh!"
went the audience, as the boy skeetered up and down on hi slick
shaft and approached his ecstasy. "If...if.. I k-k-keep going l-l-like
this I will have an oooooh..." and with that he lost control. Big
splats of boycum arched out of his prick and splattered two of the
unsuspecting girls in the face. They couldn't believe it, and
scooped up gobs of it to sniff and taste it. They weren't
disappointed, of course!
"Tha-tha-that's my baby j-j-juice," stammered Andy, "I hope none of
you boys and girls got t-t-too wet, because a lot of it comes out of
my pee pee when I get r-r-really excited," drivelled Andy, the dumb
shit still keeping up his ridiculous act well past his cream, much
to the crowd's amusement.
"Well, I hope you've all learned something from young Andy,"
sniggered the compere, as the audience roared. There was so much
slick oil and cream on the floor that with one push of the compere's
foot, the hapless young lad slid across the stage floor and splashed
into the vat of cold water at the side of the stage. "That's what
you get for showing off in front of the girls, you hopeless piece of
shit," howled the compere. "And thankyou girls, you've seen quite
enough of the big boy showoff for one evening, I think it's time you
hurried home. Your parents will be wondering where you are."
"Yes, mister," and "Thanks Mr Andy for showing us your baby juice,"
they chorused as they were ushered out of the building. The audience
lapped it up, enjoying the delicious extra layer of embarrassment
and humiliation the lad had had to suffer in the girls' presence.
"A big hand for Andy Conran", our big boy clown for this
evening, "wasn't he adorable, and didn't you all learn a great deal
from this great showman?" teased the compere, as Andy scrambled out
nude from the vat of turdy water, onto the stage, and had his arm
lifted into the air like a championship boxer. His dick, half-hard,
but cleaned of pie and cream, still oozed cum.
"Just look at this big baby and his drooling dick, guys. Look at
that drool creaming out of his dick and down his fucking leg! Who
wants a lick of that?"
"Me, me me," shouted the audience, as clear goo strung out of the
boy's piss-slit and bounced two feet below it before pearling off
onto the floor."
"OK Andy, they're not going to eat you just yet," came the
comforting voice of the compere, "you can go and have a shower
backstage while we wait for our next showboy." Relieved, Andy
scuttled and slid off centre stage, his glorious globular glutes
wobbling and getting a back view cheer from the guys." What an
evening to remember it was turning out to be.
PART 3
"OK gentlemen," said the compere, "calm down a little now, and lets
move on to the next part of the show. Please give a big warm welcome
to our next two lovely guests." A murmur of appreciation went
through the club at the thought of two boys on the stage at once,
and what punishments and humiliations they'd have to go though, as a
large metal box on a table was wheeled in to the left hand side of
the stage.
"Gentlemen, please put your party hands together for our youngest,
but still hunky, showoffs here this evening, the gorgeous, cocky,
17 year old Luke and the adorable, cheeky, toughboy, 18 year old
Chris."
Applause gathered round the club as the two guys entered centre
stage in their specially designed (i.e. tight and with shorts much
too short) claret and blue West Ham United kits. They were allowed
high-top sneakers, rather than soccer boots, of course, for ease of
movement and, not least, added sexiness. Luke was clearly muscled
and athletic, with a real footballer's thighs. He stood 5'8", had a
perfect smooth body, short blond hair gelled up into spikes, a cute
gold ring through the corner of his right eyebrow, and a chunky gold
neck chain. He winked and smiled cockily at the audience, thinking
he was just here to be ogled and admired. It didn't seem to have
occurred to him that we they all there to see them get humiliated
good and proper. 18 year old brickie Chris was a real dreamboat. He
had beautifully muscled biceps, again smooth, with a far away eyes
look as his deep hazel eyes stared out from his bowed head. His
hair was bright blond, very short at the sides, the top gently
ruffled into a straw-like effect. He stood 5'6" tall and moved
assuredly and cockily from one foot to the other, the sinews in his
thigh muscles flexing in the arc lights. Boy was it going to be fun
to take these two jocks down a peg or two.
"The first part of our game with you two lovely guys is called "Know
Your Friends", teased the compere, a 44 year-old whose real
favourite types these two little punks were. Chris was led off
backstage by an assistant and the rules of the game were explained
to a confused but keen looking Luke.
"OK, Luke. Now, Chris won't be able to hear your replies to these
questions, but I'm going to ask you eight questions, four about your
mate and four about yourself. You need to give the most honest,
truthful answer, or face the consequences. Do you understand?" This
last question was a dangerous one, given what we know about our
heroes so far.
"Yes," replied Luke, without the slightest idea of how embarrassing
or impossible to answer the questions were going to be.
"Right, question one." The guys in the crowd stopped sniggering and
laughing for a minute and fell quiet to make sure they heard the
amplified answers loud and clear.
"How many times a week do you masturbate, Lukey?"
"Oh, fuck do I have to answer that? That's embarrassing." The
compere, Jim, pulled the back of the boy's shiny, purple Adidas
shorts up into a wedgie, exposing Luke's ample packet at the
front. "OK, OK, about twice a day." Cheers and hollers from the
crowd.
"Question two. This is multiple choice. How far do you usually
shoot? Up to your belly button, up to your chest, on your face, or
over your head."
"Aw fuck, Jesus. I usually shoot up to me nose and it gets in me
eyes quite often. Me girlfriend thinks it's fucking funny." So did
the guys in the crowd.
"A different subject now. What's your favourite dessert?"
"Oh, easy, strawberry trifle and custard."
"And the last question about you is what kind of underwear are you
wearing?"
"Red briefs. Look." And he shucked down the rear of his shorts to
prove that, yes indeed, he was wearing a very brief pair of scarlet
briefs, linked by only an inch of material at the sides. The guys
lapped it up and chanted out "Off,off,off,off."
"Shhhh guys, not so fast, all in good time. The last question for
you is `What is the capital of Wyoming'."
"Don't even know where Wyoming is mate."
"Is, unsurprisingly, the wrong answer," teased Jim the compere.
Now, questions about Chris.
"How long is Chris's dick when it's erect?"
"Christ, you don't mess about, do ya? Never fuckin' seen it. Er,
fuck knows. 7 inches."
"What is Chris's favourite dessert?"
"How should I know? Cream cakes. His girlfriend's tits. God knows."
The wiseguy answers were making everyone anticipate the pending
downfall all the more.
"Next. Is Chris a natural blond?"
"Don't know. I suppose so. Ask him."
"I'm asking you, that's the point of the game, boy. I'll take that
as a `no'."
"Lastly, does he eat his own cum when he whacks off?
"Urgh, gross, fuck no, I hope not. Disgusting."
"Right, thanks for those answers, Luke. Now, let's welcome Chris
back on stage to see how well he does. A big hand for Chris." Wolf
whistles and applause as a blindfolded Chris is led back on stage.
Luke too is blindfolded as the compere explains that this is so they
can't cheat.
"I'd like a couple of volunteers from the crowd to help with any er
forfeits, should Chris's answers not match." Laughter from the guys,
who sensed straight away that the chance of matching answers,
especially as Luke hadn't paid much attention, was pretty low."
Jim selected, from the willing volunteers, the two keenest he could
spot, a couple of fat old guys in their sixties, who sauntered
forward on to the stage to help out with the admonishments. They
looked pretty keen, virtually drooling, to see what was in store for
these cheeky brats, who'd frightened them to death when they raided
the club all those weeks ago. One was assigned to Luke, and the
other to Chris, and they stood beside their charges.
"Right, Chris, question one. How often does Luke here whack off?"
"What?"
"You heard correctly, how often does he have a wank."
"Erm. God. Three times a day?" Hollers and whistles from the
audience.
"That's the wrong answer, I'm afraid Chris. He can only manage
twice. Time for a forfeit guys, of your choosing, naturally," he
said to the two sixty year old "assistants". They both spoke to each
other and decided they wanted to see the lads without shirts. Quick
as a flash, they whipped them off. They also decided they wanted to
tie the guys hands behind their back so they would behave, and
handcuffs were instantly provided. Standing in just their tight
shorts, soccer socks, now halfway down their calves, and high top
sneaks, the guys looked delicious. Sweat glistened on their chests
as their nips stuck out proudly.
"Give us a twirl and wiggle those pretty butts, boys," instructed
the compere. "Put on a lovely show for us!" Nervously, the stupid,
slightly less cocky punks obeyed, and jiggled their asses about for
all to see, which got a nice laugh from the audience.
"OK, OK face the front. Now, Chris, next question, how far does Luke
normally shoot?
"What, his spunk?"
"What do you think?" More laughter as Jim read out the options.
"I would say he'd get right over his head. I can hit the wall when
I..."
"OK, OK, enough bragging, too much detail, we'll ask about you in
good time," teased the compere, enjoying every minute as the
audience laughed at the boy's desperation to get all the details
right and gave his own statistics away in the meantime.
Chris looked forlorn. "Is it to be another item of clothing gents?"
"Yes, yes yes," cheered the crowd, as the two assistants grabbed the
boys' shorts by the waistband and shucked them down to rest around
their lower thighs, like the naughty schoolboys they in fact were. A
wet patch was clearly evident at the front of Luke's red, brief
knickers and Chris's pristine white jockstap was revealed to oohs
and aahs, with much giggling, of course, from the audience."
Next question, Chrissie-boy. "What's your mate's favourite dessert?"
"Fuck. Er, ice cream and caramel, how should I know."
The compere whispered something to the two assistants who gleefully
strode over to the metal box on the side of the stage.
"Er, no, the wrong answer, but we do have a range of puddings for
you to try, don't we guys?"
"Sure thing," chuckled the pensioners, as they rummaged around in
the box.
"Good thing, I'm fucking hungry," shouted Luke, in a misplaced
moment of defiance.
"Good," encouraged the compere. "We have plenty." Let them have some
tea, guys. With that the old men came back with various items from
the box. One opened a can of syrup and poured it between Chris's
pecs, making him flinch, as the cool, oily liquid slowly trickled
down into Chris's jockstap. Then he took a can of whipped cream,
tipping banana custard all over the dumb shit's head, spraying cream
on each nipple and then a huge amount right inside the jockstrap,
which was soon bulging like a cream puff. The older guy squeezed the
pouch and cream squirted out comically in every direction. The
embarrassed, defeated look on the once cocky brat's face was a
picture. Then the other guy got to work on Luke. More banana custard
inside the briefs, along with a penile banana and plums, which
looked hilariously suggestive. Luke's briefs sagged with the weight,
showing the hairless, shaved root of his cock. Chocolate sauce was
poured all over his head. Both Chris's jock and Luke's briefs became
virtually translucent, as they were made to parade in the sticky,
fruity mess all around the front of the stage, showing off their
delightful predicament. From behind, Luke's briefs had ridden down
almost halfway down his bubblebutt, giving a luscious view of
curvaceous asscrack. The guys out front lapped it up.
"OK, OK, guys, please stand here centre stage facing the left wing
of the stage. Gunk still dribbled down the guys bodies, which
glistened on the perfect athletes they were. "Now a question about
undies." Much laughter as, even though it was now obvious to all
what colour his friend's underpants were, poor Chris couldn't see
them.
"Black," guessed Chris, hoping he might be right and stop all this
embarrassment. "No, afraid not, he's gone for the red ones today,"
chirped the compere. The two assistants told the guys to walk
forward to the side of the stage. After five steps blindfolded and
handcuffed, splash!, into the foamy bath tub at the side of the
stage the guys went. More hysterical laughter as the guys, taken
completely by surprise, bobbed about in the soapy water and were
encouraged to clean up so we could see their buffed, cleaned up bods
in all their glory. After five minutes of splashing about, they were
invited back up on stage. Neither had expected this, quite, and
whilst washing had lost their underwear completely in the soapy
water. Drenched, they crawled out, wearing only their soaked socks
and sneaks, as their not so glamorous assistants enjoyed towelling
them down and drying them off for the next stage, paying plenty of
attention, of course to their pretty, teenage, uncut cocks and
plump, firm, juicy asses. Both cocks were now on full view of the
audience. Chris wore a tight brass cock ring around his dick and
balls which made the package stand out nicely, cupping his balls for
all to see. The boys and their long but still flaccid cocks flopped
back to the centre of the stage to face the music again. The boring
question about Wyoming was asked, and since neither British guy had
a clue even where it was, the dunce caps were carried on from the
side of the stage on silver trays. The assistants gleefully placed a
tall pointed dunce's cap on each boys head, the big letter "D" and
underneath it "DUMB AS FUCK" written in black print to add to the
guys' humiliation.
Then the hilarious question about Chris's hardon. Yet again, the
wrong answer, of course, as Chris smirked and claimed to have an 8
inch boner. Luke grimaced and moved from foot to foot as he had been
an inch out. It was so amusing to see these stupid toughies taking
these answers so seriously. They were the only ones in the hall not
literally rocking with mirth and enjoyment. No evidence of the
boner ye though.
"Assistants, the oils, please." As the lads squirmed nervously, the
assistants were told to oil up the two exposed cocks.
"You will now both get hardons, and we will see which if you is
telling the truth," laughed Jim.
"But I ain't got no hands!" smirked Luke.
"Well, you have each other's oily, slippy dicks to play with!"
laughed the compere. "You have just five minutes to get hardons,
which you must then maintain for the duration of the show." The
audience loved it. "You may only use your own dicks, rubbing against
each other, to get each other hard." Desperately, rubbing their
cocks together, the two guys tried to get each other hard. The
slick, dripping dicks gradually worked their magic, the rubbing and
the sliminess quickly having the desired effect, and within three
minutes both cocks were waving hard, rock hard in fact, and dripping
with anticipation. The boys were desperate and exhausted, as the
guys in the audience, cheered their appreciation and moved closer to
the stage for a better view. Hard-ons at the ready, the compere
asked the next pudding question, and again, Chris gave completely
the wrong answer.
"Raspberry and cream." No, wrong. Another forfeit. The old guys
looked in the box again and came out with babies' pacificers and
bibs. A pacificer was stuffed in each punk's mouth, and a prissy bib
with bunnies and teddies, one pink, on blue, were tied round each
toughie's face as they stood there in their hightops and hardons.
"Look what big boys you are. You're much to big for baby things, but
you must be taught a lesson." This was possibly the humiliation high
point of the evening.
Suddenly, out of the blue, Chris actually got a question right. He
was a natural blond. Difficult to tell with no pubes, and given the
pacifier in his mouth, he could of course only nod the answer, but
given the 50/50 choice, even the dumbest of jocks stood a chance.
"So, onto the last question, which we will answer by demonstration."
We were going to see, of course, if cutie, pouty, Chris, ate his own
cocksnot after cumming. On to the side of the stage was wheeled a
set of medieval type stocks, the type where the guys were restrained
in a sitting position, legs outstretched, arms in a bar in front of
them, legs shackled around the ankles. They were led over to this
contraption, which accommodated two miscreants, still with dunces
caps, bibs and pacifiers, their hardons bobbing expectantly as their
blindfolds were taken off and they were forced to come to terms with
their predicament. The assistants got them into position. A greased
rubber pole about an inch thick was slotted in just level with the
frenum of each boy's cock. They were told that they had to cum in
this position, but were unclear how. The compere arranged for the
spotlights to shine on the stocks, and an electric motor started up.
It was gently vibrating the pole suspended in front of the guys'
cocks. As the giant screen above the stage portrayed events, they
were told they had 10 minutes to get off by rubbing the tips of
their cocks against the pole.
"The bibs will keep you two filthy, dirty babies clean when you
squirt, and also stop you slopping any mess over our nice shiny
stocks. Right, start the clock," intoned the compere, mock
seriously. The boys rubbed away and moaned and grunted, desperate to
shoot their wads and get off that stage. The vibrating pole made
their dicks dance and quiver hilariously, their knobheads glowing
purple and showering out rivulets of teenage precum. It was a
delicious sight, as the lads groaned and grimaced. Suddenly, Luke's
cock twitched, and six huge ropes of boycum spattered out of his
flaring piss-slit, showering his face, and whapping all over the
woodwork of the frame, which rocked back and forth. Two splats
audibly landed behind him, and a lake of warm spooge covered the
bib, as Luke writhed and rocked breathlessly and excitedly. "No
hands!" laughed Luke, proudly and arrogantly. Just at that moment,
Chris too bucked like a bronco, pushing his athletic hips powerfully
against the rubber, which was just rubbing away at that most
sensitive spot below his glans. His dunce cap toppled with the
movement and slid over to a 45 degree angle, as he opened his mouth,
spat the pacificer out, and keenly stuck his tongue out as huge jets
of sperm fired out from his cock. The crowd roared and laughed as,
proving that he was a cum eater, he tried to catch as much as he
could in his pretty manboy mouth. His head darted back and forth,
catching much of it, which he swallowed greedily and desperately.
Other streaks of cum landed in his eyes and up his nose, and he
smirked away, proud of his show as the orgasm subsided. What a pair
of little exhibitionists these two turned out to be.
"Please put your hands together for Andy and Chris," as the two
hapless cuties were led to the front of the stage to give their
bows. "What a lot of spunk these two young baby boys had!" Smirking,
defiant, and still undefeated, the lads turned, mooned their butts
at the audience, and wiggled off backstage. And so the third act of
the evening was successfully concluded.
"I'm sure that, after that, we could all do with an intermission!"
went the compere. Drinks at the bar. Show to resume in 30 minutes.